


Saturday Sunday Monday Tuesday

by spinner33



Series: CM - Close to Canon [31]
Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Humorous discussion concerning breast size and penis length, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-28
Updated: 2015-11-28
Packaged: 2018-05-03 19:20:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 10,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5303624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spinner33/pseuds/spinner33
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Morgan is being nosy about Hotch and Reid’s relationship, and he outs their engagement to the team.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Don't let the number of chapters fool you. It's a very fast read.

_Friendship doubles our joy and divides our grief. — Swedish Proverb_

Saturday Afternoon

 

“Wait!” Garcia exclaimed.

Morgan stopped the car where it was and stared at her.

“Babygirl, we aren’t even into the…” Derek complained.

“Oh my gosh. I may die of the cute,” Penelope beamed, staring up the driveway.

Morgan shook his head at her and turned to see what had caught her attention.

Hotch was in front of the garage, washing his SUV with a hose. No, scratch that. Looking again, Derek could see that Hotch was spraying someone pinned against the SUV. Reid was shrieking and giggling like a little kid, arms straight out in an attempt to push the water away. Spencer threw a car sponge at Hotch and fled around the vehicle. The sponge struck Aaron in the head, sending arcs of soap suds and water flying behind him. Hotch rubbed his face with one tee-shirt sleeve and shoulder before he chased Reid, spraying him from the back.

Reid grabbed a second hose off the ground from beside the outside faucet. Reid’s hose sprung to life, and he spun around, aiming up. He caught Hotch right in the face with a burst of water. Aaron bellowed with indignation. Spencer was so surprised at the sound that Hotch made that he dropped the hose and covered his mouth with both hands. He sprung to up and forward to check if Hotch was okay.

The millisecond the water stopped, Hotch grabbed Reid, spun him around, wrapped an arm around his shoulders, and stuffed the nozzle down the front of Reid’s jeans. Spencer screamed again and wriggled around desperately until he managed to slip out of Hotch’s grip. He hit the ground, and scrambled for the second hose again.

“Why doesn’t he ever fight back?” Derek wondered, shaking his head.

“Oh my gosh,” Garcia repeated. Morgan glanced at her. She had her phone propped up on the dash. There was a blinking red light on the front. Was she recording this?

“Penelope,” Morgan chided softly. 

“That is so cute,” she sighed. 

“That’s private,” Derek said.

“But it’s cute,” Garcia said. “Uh oh. It’s about to get much more private. You better make some noise or something.”

Morgan glanced forward again. Both hoses were on the ground. Hotch had Reid pinned to the side of the SUV with a passionate kiss this time, arms around him, caressing up and down his back under his shirt. Hotch started hiking Reid’s wet shirt off of him in fact.

Morgan laid on the horn, and both men jumped, as did Garcia. She slapped Morgan on the arm as she folded her phone away. Derek rolled carefully forward into the driveway.

Reid broke out of Hotch’s grip in order to wave shyly to Morgan and Garcia, and Hotch picked up his hose. He splashed Spencer in the back of the head with another burst of water. Reid cringed downward and ducked, covering his head with both hands. Water splashed across the windshield of Morgan’s vehicle.

Derek carefully exited the vehicle as Reid sloshed around the side to talk to him, grinning sheepishly. He was dripping everywhere. Morgan’s eyes were glued to Reid’s chest. Spencer was feeling conspicuous about how the shirt was clinging to his skin. He pulled on the front hem with his long fingers, and pushed his arms downward, pulling the shirt away from his skin.

“You weren’t answering your phones. JJ sent us,” Morgan explained to Reid, who nodded seriously.

Hotch was approaching, hose in hand. Garcia refused to get out of the car. Aaron grinned at Penelope. She pointed for him to put down the hose. He grinned even wider, shaking his head no.

“I need to change,” Reid said. He sloshed towards the house, turning off the faucet as he went past it.

“Awwww,” Hotch complained as his hose went limp. Garcia finally exited the car.

“You, behave,” she said, pointing one finger at Hotch.

“JJ has a case for us. Prentiss and Rossi are already there waiting,” Morgan explained to Hotch, who became all business in the blink of an eye.

“Give us ten minutes,” Aaron replied, following behind Reid into the backdoor of the house.

Garcia had her phone out. She was thumbing the keypad, smiling to herself.


	2. Chapter 2

Saturday Evening

 

“So, Frodo,” Morgan began.

Reid looked up from the morgue table where the unfortunate Mr. Will Wallach patiently waited their attention. Spencer caught Morgan’s eyes.

“What?” Spencer puzzled, standing up straight and writing a few notes on the top page in his folder. Derek looked side to side, and reached one hand forward. He pushed Reid’s tie aside, stuck a finger through the gap between two shirt buttons, and plucked out the golden ring, dangling from the long chain.

“You wanna talk about this?” Morgan asked. Reid nibbled on his bottom lip and took a slow step back, far enough that his betrothal ring from Hotch slid out of Derek’s grip. The young doctor was wearing a sheepish smile and was turning red. He pushed the ring back inside his shirt and straightened his tie.

“Morgan, we’re here to concentrate of Mr. Wallach,” Reid murmured, clearing his throat nervously.

“I don’t want to pry….” Morgan offered.

“Sure you don’t,” Reid tossed up a sideways smirk.

“Are things serious then?” Derek ventured. “That explains why Hotch freaked out in New Mexico about Dr. Allison.”

“Mr. Wallach appears to have a gunshot wound to the heart,” Reid squeaked. “But he doesn’t fit the victimology of the rest of the dead. Why would you rape and kill four women in their mid-20’s and then suddenly have the keen desire to shoot a man in his mid-60’s. What do you make of that?”

“I think your inability to talk about the matter reveals trepidation on your part.”

“Trepidation??” Reid sparked and growled.

“Your immediately defensive response reinforces my first impression.”

Reid folded his pencil into his folder and hugged the file to his chest, giving Morgan a cold, reptilian glare.

“The defensive posture is not helping,” Morgan grinned at him.

“Yes. It’s an engagement ring. Yes. I have trepidations. Yes. I do think you’re being nosy. Any other questions I can answer for you before you will be able to turn your attention to the dead guy?”

“When’s the wedding?” Morgan asked.

“We haven’t set a date,” Reid mumbled, eyes on the floor.

“So you’re planning on a long engagement? You always have had a fear of commitment.”

“I do not have a fear of commitment,” Reid muttered blandly, reopening his folder and fumbling for his pencil. “I have a fear of abandonment.”

“Avoidance behavior,” Derek whispered.

Reid stroking his pencil with his thumb, staring hard at Morgan.

“If there’s anyone on this team with a fear of commitment……” Spencer began.

“So talk to me, because I can relate to you. Why did you say yes?”

“In all honesty?” 

“Yes.”

“He loves me. He wants me. He makes me feel needed.”

“And is the feeling mutual?” 

“Yes!” Reid exclaimed, annoyed.

“Okay. See how easy that was? It’s okay to still have trepidations. Everyone does. Feel better?”

“No,” Reid frowned. “Stop profiling me, or I’m going to put this pencil through your eye, and you’ll be lying down next to Mr. Wallach here.”

“Why isn’t Hotch wearing a ring?” Morgan asked. Reid gave a tiny growl of frustration. He closed the file again, put it down on the table next to Mr. Wallach, and headed for the door.

“Call me when you’re ready to discuss the case,” he snapped, shoving the door open with a stiff arm. Prentiss came through the suddenly-open door, and stopped him with a hand on each shoulder.

“Whoa! Reid, where are you going?”

“Mordor,” he snorted, stepping past her and swinging the door closed behind himself. Emily looked to Morgan for an explanation.

“What’s his problem?” Prentiss asked.

Morgan picked up the folder and shrugged both shoulders.

“I don't know,” he lied.


	3. Chapter 3

Saturday Night

 

“Garcia? Stop. Take a breath. Tell me what’s wrong,” Hotch said, pulling over to the side of the road and giving Prentiss a sideways glance.

“I want to file a sexual harassment complaint.” 

“Against who?”

“Reid.”

“Tell me what happened,” Hotch said, wishing Prentiss wasn’t watching him so intensely.

“He told me…..” 

“He told you what?”

“He told me I put my boobs away.”

“What did he say, exactly? What brought this on?”

“I don’t know! He was all sassy and cranky with me over the video link from the police station. I don’t know what his problem is!”

“Tell me what happened?” Hotch asked again.

“He said I needed to put my boobs away before I hurt someone with them.”

“Were you boobs hanging out?” Prentiss asked.

“What does that have to do with anything?!” Garcia shouted.

“At the risk of inspiring you to file a sexual harassment complaint against me, would you mind sending me a picture?”

“Of my boobs?!” Garcia gasped.

“Um, not specifically of your boobs. I meant a picture of whatever you’re wearing.”

“Jesus bleeping Christ,” Garcia muttered. She disconnected the phone call. Seconds later, amidst the quiet chuckling of Emily Prentiss, Hotch’s phone beeped to tell him he had an email.

Hotch took a deep breath and clicked the button. His jaw dropped open.

“WOW!” Prentiss exclaimed. Hotch could barely put his eyes back in his head. His phone was ringing. It got to the third ring before he could answer.

“Okay,” Garcia murmured. “About my complaint…..”

“Garcia,” Hotch began slowly. “How do I say this without hurting your feelings? Personally, I think your breasts are a work of art.”

“Yes?” Garcia warmed up.

“But maybe you should keep them in a private collection,” Prentiss teased. Hotch growled at her.

“Emily!” Penelope shouted.

“Honey, I love you, but that shirt is really low-cut,” Prentiss said.

“It isn’t against regulation,” Garcia protested. 

“That top would be great for out on the town or on a hot date, but that is too low-cut for work,” Emily said.

“You’re just jealous,” Garcia sniffed haughtily.

“Yes, I am,” Prentiss admitted. “You’ve got like FIVE TIMES the cleavage I have. But I am also being honest with you.”

“Thanks a lot for the support, girlfriend!” Garcia shouted. Hotch interrupted their impromptu spat.

“Garcia, I will call Reid right this second, and I will make him apologize profusely, and I will remind him it is not his place to comment on your wardrobe, or to make derogatory remarks about your boobs. Okay?” Hotch asked.

“Not good enough,” Garcia sniveled.

“Technically speaking, I’m not sure this is sexual harassment,” Prentiss interjected.

“What would you call it?”

“I would call it Reid being mad at Morgan and taking it out on you,” Prentiss replied.

“Why is he mad at Morgan? Why is that my fault?” Garcia demanded.

“It’s not your fault,” Emily soothed. “But Reid is never going to confront Morgan, so he’s being mean to you instead.”

“Why?”

“Because he’s a spineless jellyfish, and you’re less likely to punch him in the mouth?” Hotch suggested.

“Says who?” Penelope bristled.

“Garcia, I will call Reid right this second,” Hotch promised.

“I want him on speaker,” Garcia demanded. “I want to hear him grovel.”

“Okay, you dial him, and we’ll do this right here,” Hotch said. He could hear her tapping keys.

“Hello?” Reid answered morosely.

“Dr. Reid?” Garcia said crisply, her voice all filled with sadistic glee.

“Garcia?” Reid murmured. “Penelope, look, I’m so sorry about a few minutes ago. That was out of line, and I’m sorry.”

“Oh,” Garcia stumbled. “Really? Is that so?”

Hotch took a breath and started to interrupt, but Reid continued talking.

“I’m an ass. I’m really sorry.”

“Yes, you are an ass, and, yes, you should be sorry,” Penelope growled.

“It won’t happen again,” Reid promised.

“Well….um….okay,” Garcia decided. “Apology accepted. Don’t let it happen again.”

“It won’t,” Reid promised.

“I’m still mad at you though,” Garcia said. 

“Okay. I understand. I’d be mad at me too.” 

“Fine.”

“I am sorry,” Reid said again.

“Good. You stay sorry. And if you’re mad at Morgan, take it up with him.”

“Did he say something to you?” Reid’s voice rose an entire octave.

“No. But it doesn’t take a genius profiler to know you’re more likely to strike at him through someone he loves rather than confront him personally. Because you’re a  
spineless….jellyfish. Listen to me, Spencer Reid— don’t be a dick to me because you’re mad at Morgan.”

“Okay. I hear you. I’ll go be a dick to Morgan instead.”

“Fine. You do that, Dr. Cranky Pants,” Garcia said. She disconnected the line.

Hotch cleared his throat. “Problem solved?” he asked Garcia hopefully.

“I suppose,” Penelope sighed reluctantly.

“Personally, I think you should have held out for more groveling,” Prentiss interjected.

“Oh no. Don’t be all nice to me. I’m mad at you too, Miss Itty Bitty Titty Committee,” Garcia snapped.

“Hey, girlfriend, don’t make me file a sexual complaint against you,” Emily replied.

“Do you still want to file a complaint against Reid?” Hotch wondered.

“No,” Garcia grumbled. “I want to smack him in the face and tell him to keep his eyes out of my cleavage.”

“If Reid is rude to you again, Penelope, you have my full permission to spank him,” Hotch smiled.

“Don’t think I won’t take you up on that. Garcia out,” she said, disconnecting the line again.

Hotch put away his phone and shook his head, glancing over at Prentiss. Emily put her hands on her hips and stared at him.

“I can’t believe you said your boyfriend is a spineless.”

“Who knows his weaknesses better than me?” 

“Spencer is not spineless.”

“No, but he is non-confrontational.”

“And you prefer him that way. I so want to be there when you figure out how much spine he really has,” Emily murmured wickedly. She let her gaze fall to her chest. “Are they really that small?” she asked.

Hotch shrugged one shoulder, putting the car in gear and getting back on the road.

“My dad used to say that anything over a mouthful was wasted,” Hotch replied, pointedly and carefully keeping his eyes on the road. “So what did Morgan say to Reid to set Dr. Cranky Pants off?”

“I don’t know, but it involves hobbits,” Prentiss replied, closing her jacket. “Did your mom have small boobs?”

“We are not having this conversation,” Aaron said uncomfortably as he shook his head.

“Yes, we are. Did your mom have small boobs?” 

“Yes.”

“So maybe your dad was saying that to make her feel better?”

“Maybe.”

“Men do treat women with large boobs differently than women with little boobs,” Prentiss pointed out.

“I’m sure Reid could give us all kinds of fascinating statistics on the topic,” Hotch nodded.

“Oh, I’m sure he could. It’s a topic close to his heart,"Emily smirked. “His mom has small boobs too.”

“You want to know what I don’t get? Why do women wear clothes that draw attention to their breasts, and then get mad when someone comments on their breasts, positively or negatively?” Hotch said.

“It would take too long to explain.” 

“Try me.”

“We want to be noticed. We want you to notice. But we don’t want you to be a dick about it.”

“So it’s a test. ‘Can you stare at my boobs and not make rude comments about them?’ ”

“Maybe.”

" ‘Can we have a conversation where your eyes don’t fall below shoulder level?’ ”

“Yeah, that’s accurate.”

“See, and that’s where men are so different.” 

“How’s that?”

“We aren’t subtle. If we had big boobs and wanted you to look at them, we’d go shirtless. There wouldn’t be any of these coy games going on,” Hotch chuckled. “Are you self-conscious about your small boobs?” Hotch added quickly.

“So you do think they’re small,” Prentiss decided, narrowing her eyes at him.

“No, but you…you said…..smaller than Garcia’s,” Aaron added uncomfortably.

“I am no more self-conscious about my small boobs than the average man is self-conscious about being…. average,” Emily replied. 

Hotch thought about that comment for a moment before he looked at her and spoke.

“Average?” he questioned. 

“I’m just saying…”

“No. Don’t say another word. Let’s stop this conversation right here before I have to write both you and Reid up for sexual harassment,” Hotch frowned at Prentiss.

“Hotch, don’t be so sensitive,” Emily sighed.

“It’s not the size of your gun, it’s how well you aim,” Hotch muttered.

“Was your dad….”

“Em, zip it,” Hotch advised. Prentiss threw caution to the wind.

“Is that why you carry two guns?” she asked.

“Why don’t you call Morgan and ask him what he said to Reid? That would be so helpful,” Aaron intoned.

“Oh-kay,” Prentiss replied slowly, pulling out her phone. “For what it’s worth, when I said average, I didn’t mean you specifically.”

“Zip it,” Hotch advised again.

“Morgan?! Derek? Hi. Are you busy?” Emily asked sweetly. “Good. Hotch is mad at me, and he’d like to talk to you. Why is Hotch mad at me? Don’t ask.”


	4. Chapter 4

Late Saturday Night

 

It was well after midnight when Hotch and Prentiss returned to the hotel where the team was staying. Hotch escorted Emily to her room and mumbled goodnight, then headed down the hall. He looked back to see her watching him – she was clearly waiting to see if he would go to his own room or if he would go to Reid’s room across the hall. He stopped, crossed his arms over his chest, and stared back at her. Prentiss grinned, opened her door, and went inside.

Hotch stepped to Reid’s door and tapped lightly. The unlocked door swung open. He went inside the dark room, letting the door swing open far enough to see that there was no one sleeping in the bed. He instantly pulled out his weapon.

Heart in his throat, Hotch stepped back into the hallway and fumbled for his own door key. Prentiss was right at his back as Hotch opened his door with his weapon in hand. Emily had her gun in hand too, and nothing but concern on her face. Hotch opened his door. Spencer was curled up asleep on his bed. He had his arms around Hotch’s pillow.

Hotch pulled the door closed, and gave a deep sigh of relief. He mouthed grateful thanks to Prentiss as he holstered his gun. She put away her gun and gave a one-shouldered shrug. Emily padded in stocking feet past Reid’s empty room. She closed the door securely, and waved goodnight to Hotch before returning to her own room.

Hotch opened his own door again and stepped inside. His eyes adjusted to the darkness easily because the bathroom light was on and the door to the bathroom was closed except for an inch or two od space.

Aaron stepped into the bathroom and disrobed, wondering if he could put off a shower until morning. He was not surprised to see that his toiletry kit and towels and a pair of pajamas were waiting for him. Maybe Prentiss was right. Reid might have been the king of non-confrontation, but he could get his point across pretty strongly when he wanted to. And this message was pretty easy to decipher -- "Take a shower before you get in bed with me". Hotch turned on the shower and hung up his suit as he waited for the water to warm up.

Once he had finished his shower, Hotch crawled stealthily into bed. He spooned against Reid’s back, putting an arm around his waist. Reid rolled over and snuggled chest to chest with Hotch and breathed a clumsy kiss to his neck.

“Oh, you fix’d it….love you,” Reid murmured sleepily without opening his eyes. Hotch wondered what he was dreaming.


	5. Chapter 5

Too Early Sunday Morning

 

Morning arrived far too early for Hotch’s liking. At his usual time, he opened his eyes. His brain was already talking to him, telling him it was time to get up, that he needed to make coffee or find coffee, that he needed to take a shower to wake himself fully. He needed to shave, needed to get dressed, had to decide what to wear today. He had to decide which files the team needed to go over this morning at their internal briefing before presenting their profile to the local law enforcement.

Spencer moved next to him, and Aaron studied him in the morning light. Reid wore a sleepy half smile in his dreams. He burbled drowsy, hopeful syllables about coffee, good coffee? Hotch’s first thoughts were of work, and Spencer’s first thoughts were about good coffee. This realization made Hotch smile.

Hotch nosed a kiss to his lover’s mouth. When Reid moaned his approval, Hotch latched onto one earlobe. He listened to Spencer moan softly, and watched pleasure take over his features. Reid arched against Hotch even though he was half awake and dreaming yet. Aaron memorized the way the light lit Reid’s beautiful features and sandy hair. He began to unbutton Spencer’s pajama top, nosing kisses to his warm skin. His ring glittered as it slid from Reid’s chest to his shoulder and off onto the bed.

“Shower?” Hotch whispered. Reid nodded in reply, letting Hotch lead him by the hand.

Hotch striped Reid and guided him under the shower, lavishing him from head to toe with kisses and licks and bites. Hotch shadowed around Reid’s form, stroking his lover. Circling his own arms backwards up around Hotch, Spencer began to moan wantonly, head thrown back, mouth open, eyes closed. Hotch heard a radio switch on in the next room. Were the walls that thin?

“Go on….take the money and run….Go on….take the money and run….”

The channel changed quickly. Aaron could hear each station in detail. God, the walls were that thin. Hotch suppressed a grin and nuzzled Reid’s neck.

“Shhh….baby…shhh,” he urged, stroking his shaft, sucking his earlobe. In response, Reid groaned even louder. As he poured some random shampoo or body wash on his fingers and smoothed it over himself as lubricant, Hotch wondered whose room was adjacent to this one. The radio stopped changing channels.

“Whatever you want from me…. I’m giving you everything…. I’m your baby tonight…. You’re giving me ecstasy…. You are my fantasy…. I’m your baby tonight…”

He prepared Spencer slowly, teasing kisses on his neck, along his spine as he stretched and spread him. Somewhere in between pushing himself inside Reid and listening to Spencer’s rising cries of passion, Hotch realized that all this noise was not unconscious delirium on Reid’s part. He was doing this – being loud and showy—on purpose. Short of clapping a hand over Reid’s mouth and holding tight, there wasn’t much Aaron could do but enjoy the ride. Besides, he needed both his hands, because these were slippery walls, and the last thing he wanted was to have to explain at the emergency room how exactly he had hurt either himself or his partner.

Hotch did wonder who was going to be the angriest person at the breakfast table in an hour though.

Reid slid down along the wall, and they landed on the shower floor, Hotch riding Reid, thrusting, grinding, biting, stroking. Hotch crooned dirty words in Spencer’s ear, slamming into him until Reid came with a loud, devastating groan which eventually eased back into tiny, breathy sighs of pleasure. Knowing by those sounds that he had absolutely hit the right note for Reid’s mood today, a little rough but not too rough, was all it took to push Hotch over the edge as well. He filled him, biting his shoulder for good measure. Dizzy with post-coital heaviness, Hotch leaned against Reid against the wall, listening to the sound of their breathing as the water washed over them both. Reid squirmed to get away, and Hotch held tight to him, growling softly in his ear.

Hotch was the first to recover his senses. Reid was still making soft, happy noises as Hotch pulled him to his feet again and began to scrub and wash him clean.

“More?” Spencer purred hopefully, nuzzling Hotch’s neck.

“No. We have work to do,” Hotch replied sternly.

“Awww,” his lover pouted with disappointment. Any other Sunday morning, Aaron would have carried him back to bed and taken him over and over, would have happily fucked him until neither of them could move. Not when there was a case to work though. Spencer understood. He dotted a kiss on Hotch’s chin and began to wash his hair for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song quotes are from "Take the Money and Run" - Steve Miller Band, and "I'm Your Baby Tonight" - Whitney Houston


	6. Chapter 6

Still Sunday Morning

 

Hotch wasn’t long in guessing who had had the room to their right. He and Reid were late getting to the table in the lobby because Reid changed his tie three times before he was happy. Everyone else was already there. Could these two have been more obvious? The entire team went quiet in an attempt to hide that they had been discussing Hotch and Reid’s tardiness.

Rossi was reading the paper and having a bowl of oatmeal. Prentiss and JJ were circling the buffet, selecting fruit and bagels and yogurt, but lingering hungrily over the more-savory selections. Hotch grabbed a muffin and a cup of coffee. His stomach wasn’t going to wake up for another hour or so. He and Prentiss would be back on the road around town by then, and he could grab something on the run. And she would chide him for not eating enough breakfast earlier.

JJ and Prentiss returned to the table, whispering between themselves again. Rossi gave them a stern look. Hotch followed them to the table and sat across from Morgan. Derek was a big bundle of annoyance, hunched over his plate, picking at his waffles, poking at his eggs. He looked up at Hotch with one sullen eye.

“Good morning?” Aaron offered nervously.

Morgan grunted sarcastically at him and went back to punishing his helpless breakfast. He took to the plate of food with a knife and fork, like the messy dissection of a hated enemy. Reid plopped down two full plates of food and took the chair next to Morgan. He grinned broadly at everyone.

“Good morning!” he exclaimed happily. Hotch hid a smile. There were times when he was so embarrassed that his beloved Spencer could be such a passive-aggressive brat. But it was so cute watching him torment Morgan. Usually it was Morgan tormenting Reid, and Hotch never interrupted those moments, because he felt Reid had to learn sometime how to defend himself against his peers. Hotch could not bring himself to interrupt this torment either, not yet anyway. Let Reid have a few moments of fun. He was spineless about physical confrontations, but he was well-armed when it came to passive-aggressive warfare.

“For you, maybe,” Derek turned to the side to whisper. Everyone else pretended to be engrossed in breakfast or the newspaper, whichever offered the quickest escape.

“I’m starving,” Reid bubbled, shoveling bacon and eggs and waffles into his mouth.

“I’ll bet you are,” Morgan interjected softly again.

Reid ate like he was afraid someone was going to steal his breakfast from him, cleaning off the first plate in record time.

“Didn’t you sleep well?” Spencer asked Morgan innocently. 

He paused between bites, fork halfway to his mouth. Sunlight glinted off Hotch’s ring, which Reid was wearing on his third finger. Morgan shook his head, unable to stop the genuinely-pleased half-smile that took his mouth to one side.

“Noisy neighbors,” Morgan pretended to grumble. His mood had lifted on seeing Reid wearing the ring. Derek looked to Hotch to offer, what? Silent congratulations? Aaron kept his face unreadable. Prentiss and JJ both noticed the ring at the same moment, and they lit up with curiosity. Hotch cringed. 'Nothing here to see, people. Move along,' he thought moodily to himself.

Reid gasped playfully and covered his mouth with his fingertips, giving Hotch a quick glance before he leaned over to Morgan.

“Sorry,” Spencer offered softly. 

“Time for work,” Hotch decided. 

“But I’m not done,” Reid pouted.

“Oh yes you are,” Aaron told him sternly. Spencer gave him the Bambi look, and Hotch felt his knees buckling.

“Five minutes?” Reid pleaded. Hotch steeled himself and happily imagined turning Reid over his knee later.

“Now,” Hotch said as he stood up and collected his empty mug and shreds of muffin baking cup.

Morgan got up from the table, drained his orange juice, and carried his plate away. Rossi folded his paper neatly and threw away the rest of his oatmeal. He snatched up a sweet roll on his way past the buffet. Reid scooted his plate to the middle of the table and motioned to JJ and Prentiss.

“Help me finish. It would be a terrible waste.” 

“We already ate,” JJ protested.

“Mm mm… sausage gravy and homemade biscuits….” Reid persuaded, stuffing a mouthful between his lips and darting the tip of his tongue down to catch a drop on his lower lip.

“One bite wouldn’t hurt,” Prentiss decided, sticking a quick fork in the plate. “Oh, man, that is good. Maybe two bites…”

JJ folded, picked up her fork, and took a cautious bite.

“Oh, biscuits, oh gravy, I love you, I miss you,” she sighed happily to her fork before taking another bite, and another.

“You’re welcome,” Reid smiled.

“No. Not you. You are pure evil, tempting me with beautiful biscuits and gravy,” JJ frowned at Reid.

“Okay,” Spencer intoned with a puzzled look. “You’re welcome. I think.”

When he came back to collect his jacket, Morgan looked to make sure Hotch was not watching them. He popped Reid in the back of the head. Spencer cringed and squeaked. Luckily Morgan had caught him between bites, or they would have been having a whole different conversation, one about the dangers of smacking people in the head when they're using forks.

“Noisy slut,” Morgan whispered in his ear.

“Pervy voyeur,” Reid said, putting in another bite. “17,” he added.

“17 what?” Derek wondered.

“You’ve been with 17 different women since…” 

“Since when?”

Reid tapped his ring to the table and Derek instinctively understood. Spencer knew somehow that Morgan had been with 17 different women since Hotch and Reid had first become involved.

“How do you know?” Morgan wondered. Spencer smiled at him. 

“Hello? Professional profiler, remember? There are signs. Giveaways. Changes in your routine. A particular way that you smile. You always wear a particular aftershave the next day too.”

“Reid. Morgan. Now,” Hotch called. 

“This isn’t over,” Derek warned.

“It is unless you want me to start naming names,” Spencer whispered sweetly and dangerously. Morgan’s eyes got wide. Prentiss kicked Reid in the shins under the table. JJ was too busy making happy with the biscuits and gravy to pay attention to any part of their exchange.

“Don’t make me get the handcuffs!” Aaron hollered as he went out the door.

“Shit. He’s in a mood,” JJ muttered to Prentiss. 

“Did you make him bottom?” Prentiss asked Reid. Spencer inhaled in surprise and choked on a mouthful of biscuit. He nearly died right there. “Better go,” Prentiss mused, stuffing in one last bite of biscuits and gravy. JJ took a last bite as well.

“Morgan with me. Reid with Prentiss,” Hotch called from the glass foyer.

“Shake a leg, Jareau,” Rossi called out from behind Hotch.

Reid took one last swallow of orange juice before he followed behind the others.


	7. Chapter 7

Sunday Afternoon

 

“So, Reid, really? You’ve never once made Hotch bottom for you?” Prentiss questioned Reid. Spencer paused, lowered his gun, and tucked himself up against the wall next to her.

“What?” he mouthed.

“I’d pay good money to see that,” she chuckled. 

“Is this really the time?” Spencer whispered back. They had the unsub cornered in his cabin in the woods. He was surrounded, with nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. This could go easy, or this could go hard.

“DAVID JONES! THIS IS THE FBI! COME OUT WITH YOUR HANDS IN THE AIR!” Hotch commanded from the other side of the building.

Emily nodded at Reid and put herself on the other side of the back door. He gave her a small smile in return.

Without warning, the heavy wooden door slammed open between them, flattening Prentiss to the side of the cabin. Gunfire filled the air. Reid made a grunting noise. Emily struggled to get the door off of herself, but it had come undone from the top hinge, and by the time she was out from behind and under the damned thing, David Jones was dragging Reid backwards towards a waiting Jeep. Reid was dazed. Jones was gripping him around the neck with a large forearm. Reid’s nose and lips were bleeding. Jones was carrying a sawed-off weapon, and there was blood on the butt of the gun.

“FBI! FREEZE!” Prentiss screamed, leveling her gun. She put a warning shot over Jones’ head. He temporarily lost his grip on Reid, but he regained it quickly enough. He yanked Reid up and against his chest. He took a shot a Prentiss that put a two-foot hole through the wall of his cabin.

Morgan leapt through the open back door, and Hotch raced around the cabin. They arrived at exactly the same time, and also leveled their guns at Jones as he was forcing Reid through the passenger door and into the driver’s seat of the Jeep. Jones climbed into the passenger seat and slammed the door.

“JONES! DON’T DO THIS!” Hotch bellowed. Jones stuck the barrel of his sawed-off weapon up under Reid’s chin and turned the engine over with his other hand.

“Drive,” the unsub growled at Reid. Spencer’s eyes were wide with fear, and his face was bleached of all color. The vehicle jerked into gear and backed slowly away. Hotch began to surge forward but Morgan held onto his arm.

“Hotch, don’t do it!” Morgan warned.

The Jeep jerked into another gear, and whirled around, heading out onto the mountain road at an unwise speed.

“There are three roads in and out of here, and they all three convene two miles from here!” Prentiss exclaimed. Hotch stood where he was, gun in hand, watching the disappearing Jeep with horror and dread.

“Hotch? Hotch! Come on,” Morgan urged, pulling hard on him.

Rossi pulled around onto the road and Morgan leapt into the vehicle from the passenger side as Rossi took off again in pursuit. Hotch and Prentiss scrambled into the second SUV. Prentiss drove as Hotch sat in the passenger seat, checked his gun chamber, noted the number of bullets, and tried to calm his racing heart.

“Faster, faster,” he pleaded with Emily.

The SUV engine gunned, and they bounced around the sharp turns. Up ahead, Rossi and Morgan were even closer to Jones’ Jeep, and they were making the turns but swerving off the edges of the thin road.

The terrain veered upwards over a hill, then around and down. Prentiss gave an involuntary wail of alarm they came around the turn. Morgan and Rossi came to a horrible-sudden halt. There was a gun blast and the sound of breaking glass. There was a wrenching of metal and mechanics. Jones’ Jeep twisted sideways and rolled over and over down the mountain side.

Morgan leapt out of the SUV and raced towards the wreck. Billows of black smoke filled the air. The smell of fire followed. Hotch went down the hill as well. Prentiss followed. Rossi was already on the radio, signaling for help.


	8. Chapter 8

Sunday Night

 

Hotch spent Sunday night by Reid’s hospital bedside, stroking the doctor’s hair as the young man slept. Aaron concentrated on the sound of Reid’s steady, even breathing, and offered gratitude to whatever gods might be listening to him. Surely someone had been watching over Reid this afternoon.

Morgan had raced down the hill and dragged Reid from the burning Jeep. Spencer had escaped with cuts and scrapes and mostly minor injuries—a broken left wrist and cracked ribs was the worst of it. His sneakers were scorched. He was bruised and rattled, and he had thrown up several times after the accident, but he would live. The doctors were waiting till tomorrow morning to give him another CAT scan, and evaluate his head once more. They would probably release him tomorrow night or Tuesday morning if everything was okay.

Hotch was wondering if the day would have turned out differently if he had taken Reid back to bed this morning, even if only for a few minutes. They might not have crossed paths with Jones at his cabin, but with their warrant, they would have been able to search for evidence. They would have been able to arrest Jones somewhere later, quietly and without incident, back at his country club or at his business. There wouldn’t have been gunfire and a car wreck involved. It was pure luck that they had found Jones at his cabin at all. Bad luck at that. Aaron promised himself that the next time Spencer was naked in his arms, and he was whispering for more, Hotch was going to listen and obey.

“Is he asleep?”

Aaron jolted up straight. He hadn’t heard the door open at all. Morgan patted his back and gave him a cup of coffee.

“I know you’re not going to sleep, so I thought you might want this.”

“Thanks,” Hotch mumbled.

Morgan mumbled back, “You’re welcome. I’ll be in the hallway standing watch. Give you some space?”

“Morgan, stay. Please? You know what they say about misery loving company.”

“Hotch, he’s going to be okay.” 

“I know,” Hotch nodded.

“Cheer the hell up then. I come bearing good news from Prentiss and Rossi,” Morgan said. Hotch took a sip of coffee and waited for him to continue. “Jones is going to make it. He’s got second degree burns on his lower legs, but he’ll survive.”

“Good to know. I look forward to watching the rest of him fry,” Hotch growled.

“Reid has been out for quite a while. Do you think the doctors gave him something stronger than Advil?” Morgan commented.

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” Hotch muttered. “They had to set his wrist.”

Morgan agreed and started to say something else, but Reid gave a soft groan, and his right hand grasped outward. Hotch put down his coffee, and petted Reid’s cheek. Morgan took his right hand.

“We’re here,” Hotch said.

“Reid? What’s wrong?” Morgan added.

For no reason they could ascertain, Reid was welling up with tears.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” Morgan soothed. Reid was mouthing words. Morgan backed up, looking to Aaron. Hotch stroked Reid’s hair and his face, being careful of the bruises and stitches on his chin and left jawline.

“What’s he saying?” Morgan whispered to Hotch as understanding flooded Aaron’s face. Sadness followed.

“It’s okay, Reid,” Hotch said, stroking his hair. “Don’t worry. We’ll find it.”

“…..lost….my……ring…..” Reid gasped. 

Aaron murmured again, “We’ll find it.”

Reid closed his eyes, and he drifted off again. Hotch dried Reid’s tears away and thumbed his cheek gently. Morgan petted Reid’s hand and gave a sad half-smile.


	9. Chapter 9

Monday Morning

 

“Yeah, so, Jones’ lawyer is of course saying his client couldn’t have done any of the horrible things we’re accusing him of, because he knows for a fact that Jones has got alibis for the places and dates and times of every murder in the indictment. Although he couldn’t tell me any of the specifics about any of the murders, he was sure his client could account for his whereabouts.”

Rossi paused for a sarcastic smirk, continuing to sort through each flat, square box-top of articles that Morgan and Prentiss and JJ were bringing up the hill from the crash site below him. Rossi had the items sorted into paper, plastic, metal, and undetermined. So far, plastic and undetermined were winning by far. Then there was the box for forest things – twigs, leaves, petals, and the sole unfortunate victim who had died as a result of the crash – a very dead squirrel.

“Yeah, yeah, tell me,” Dave said into the jaw mic of the earpiece he was wearing. “It was all I could do not to punch the smug SOB right in the face. You’d be so proud of me, Hotch. I kept my mouth shut and let Prentiss do all the talking. She gave His Nibs a list of the DNA samples we’ve obtained so far from the cabin, and we aren’t even done with the first room yet. We’ve already got matches for three of the victims. So, fuck him, Mr. Alibi.”

JJ gave an excited shriek from down the hill.

“Wait. Pennsylvania Petite is screaming. It’s either another giant tarantula, or we’ve struck gold. No, Aaron, I’m not kidding. I’m serious. It’s the biggest fucking spider I’ve ever seen in my life. Morgan almost passed out. Prentiss chased it for twenty minutes, finally caught it, and put it in a shoebox. She said Boy Genius would pee his pants if he saw it, so naturally, she’s gonna show it to him. You should probably warn him. Well, I don’t think she’d toss it in his lap or anything, but, yeah, give him a heads-up. Is he still being evaluated? Have they said anything yet? They’ll release him tomorrow? That’s terrific!”

“I GOT IT! I GOT IT! I GOT IT!” JJ screamed as she sprinted up the hill, grinning from ear to ear. Prentiss and Morgan were close on her heels, anxious to peer into her tightly-clenched hand.

JJ beamed proudly as she dropped the golden ring into Rossi’s palm.


	10. Chapter 10

Monday Afternoon

 

“It’s like having a herd of school children in here,” one of the nurses was complaining to another nurse as Hotch was coming back from the distant mens room.

Aaron had made the excuse that he needed to wash his face and wake himself up with a walk around the hospital floor. He had actually wanted a place to shed a few tears in private. Reid had been so happy to be presented with his ring again that he had burst into tears. The joy on Reid’s face had been heart-warming and heart-breaking for Hotch. Aaron once again was filled with self-doubt – he didn’t deserve someone like Spencer, who was so happy just to be wanted.

“It’s not visiting hours. There’s five of them in the room with him. The man is supposed to be resting, and they’re in there getting him all excited.”

“Think they can walk in here, flash a badge, and we’re supposed to grovel at their feet.”

Hotch gave both the nurses dirty looks as he walked slowly past, headed in the direction of all the noise down at the end of the hall. Reid’s hospital room door was wide open.

Hotch supposed there was a good deal of screaming going on. The noise was carrying pretty far too. Patients in other rooms were starting to stare and wonder. Hotch cringed in embarrassment and fought back a grimace. He should quiet his team down, shouldn’t he?

When he entered the room, Hotch saw Reid and Morgan were backed up against the farthest wall. Rossi was sitting up on the counter by the sink. Prentiss was chasing the giant, fuzzy spider around under the bed with the open shoebox.

"Emmy, that’s a Brachypelma Emilia, and you need to be careful with it!” Reid was saying.

“So it’s poisonous?” she wondered hopefully.

“No, but if you annoy her, she will throw hairs at you, which can cause irritation and infections.”

“What’s the name again?”

“Brachypelma Emilia,” Reid winced. “It’s native to Mexico. Not sure what it’s doing in Utah, except maybe someone had a pet that got loose and it’s adapted to survive.”

“You want a better look once I catch her again?” Emily wondered.

“No! I don’t need a closer look!”

“You should take it back to the forest where you found it!” Morgan bellowed.

“After how long it took me to get it in the box? No way!” Prentiss exclaimed. “Think I’ll give it to Jack for Christmas.”

“Like hell you will,” Hotch stated firmly.

Aaron helped JJ drag the hospital bed aside so Prentiss could put the sizeable spider back into the shoebox. Prentiss clamped on the lid and held it tight. Morgan released a sigh of relief.

“Hotch, she likes you," Emily said as she pushed the box at him. One furry foot peeked through one of the holes in the top. Hotch shuddered and grimaced.

“You let that out again, and I’ll step on it,” Rossi warned, sliding his butt down off the counter by the sink.

“If Jack’s not interested,” JJ said, “I think Henry would find her pretty cool.”

“Merry Christmas. All yours,” Hotch said, taking the box from Emily and giving it to Jareau. JJ smiled and held on tight. Aaron hurried to the corner where Morgan and Reid were cowering. Together, Hotch and Morgan gently walked Reid back to his hospital bed.

“Come on. The excitement is over. The nurses think we’re getting out of hand. This is a hospital, not a playground. We’re going to put Reid back in bed. He is going to get some rest. We are going to go wrap up this case. Then we are all getting out of here as soon as possible,” Hotch said. Most of the team groaned their displeasure.

“Rest sounds good,” Reid replied sleepily. He laid down and stretched out his stiff frame. Hotch covered Reid with sheets and blankets and such, put another pillow behind his thin shoulders, and patted him gently on the head. Spencer was hugging his own left hand, turning his ring around and around on his ring finger. The golden circle was slightly scorched, and slightly melted on one edge, but he clung to it tightly, smiling contentedly to himself.

“You could put a spacer on it so it doesn’t slip off so easily,” Prentiss recommended, taking his hand and rubbing tenderly. She was clearly speaking a foreign language to him. He gave her a puzzled look.

“Back to work, kids,” Rossi said, holding open the door and motioning for the rest of the team to follow him. He wanted to allow Hotch and Reid a moment alone. Hotch waited until everyone was out in the hallway, and hoped they would all discretely turn the other way.

“Love you,” Hotch whispered, pecking a gentle kiss to Spencer’s bruised cheek.

“Love you too,” Reid answered, reaching an arm around Hotch’s neck to hold him close if only for a moment longer. “Will you be back later?”

“I will,” Hotch assured him.

"Will you bring me some pants?"

"I will," Hotch murmured, sealing the promise with another careful kiss on Reid’s bruised face.

“Ouch.”

“Sorry.”

“Do it again. Ouch. Ouch,” Reid whispered.

Hotch looked up at the door. The rest of the team was smiling at them. Hotch rolled his eyes and shook his head at them. They waved from the door as Reid settled himself once more. Hotch waved more privately, and closed the door behind himself.


	11. Chapter 11

Monday Night

 

“So how did you get this past the nurses’ station?” Reid asked Morgan. Derek shrugged one shoulder and helped spread out the map of Utah that Reid was having a difficult time unfolding with one hand. With the map open, Spencer worked on a slice of pepperoni pizza.

“I have a special gift when it comes to charming the ladies. You know that,” Morgan chuckled. He took a big bite of his own slice and whipped out a list. “See? I knew you were getting bored here, waiting around, nothing to do.”

“You would not believe how bored I was,” Reid admitted, gobbling hungrily.

“So I said to myself, I’ll go sneak Pretty Boy some real food, and let him draw on a map. That’ll cheer him up. Where do we begin?”

“Jones’ alibi for the 23rd,” Reid questioned. “You flashed your badge, and batted your lashes, and they said yes?”

“I bought ten pizzas and left nine at the nurses’ station,” Morgan admitted. “Jones claims he was playing golf with friends in Woodland all afternoon, and had dinner with the same friends that evening. Those friends all said there was nothing different or odd about his behavior either during the day or during the evening.”

Reid traced one finger over the map and his eyebrows knitted together in thought.

“Mandy Muller was taken the night before on the 22nd. If Jones was holding her at his cabin, as the DNA would suggest, he would have had enough time after golf and before dinner, to have killed Mandy and returned to his friends without a serious delay. I would venture to say that being able to spend your day golfing and eating with your friends while your captive lies bleeding to death on the floor of your private killing space will do far more damage with the jury than Jones’ lawyer understands. For him to have been able to spend the night torturing Mandy, go play golf, come back and finish killing her, and then go out to eat like nothing had happened? That’s going to make a big impression on the jury.”

“Why kill Wallach?”

“Wallach – of course – was more intuitive than Jones’ other friends. He must have suspected what Jones was up to. He went to the woods. He knows the cabin because his own cabin isn’t five miles away. He nosed around. Jones caught him. Boom. Dead. Takes his body as far away from the cabins as possible, only making it more obvious where the crimes had taken place.”

Reid paused, picked up the pizza slice again, and took another bite. Morgan rummaged around on the table for a napkin, catching Reid’s stitched and bruised chin and carefully scrubbing off sauce and cheese both. He went to put the napkin down when the envelope on the table caught his eyes. The hospital room door swung open.

“Morgan! What are you doing here? It’s 10:30. He’s supposed to be resting,” Hotch complained as he came through the door with Reid’s go-bag in hand.

“I couldn’t sleep. Kept thinking about the case. I’m worried Jones is going to manage to slip out of this, and I wanted to bounce some ideas off someone, go over the details, get it all straight in my head,” Derek said, picking up the big envelope on the table.

“What did you bring me?” Reid asked Hotch. Aaron gave him a funny look, and bent to whisper in his ear.

"A lot more than pants, Babydoll."

Spencer replied a shy smile. “I think I’m going to need permission from the doctor first,” he added, turning pink.

“What’s in the package?” Derek asked, indicating the envelope.

“You don’t want to open that. It’s from Garcia,” Reid laughed suddenly.

“Why not? What did Penelope send you?” Morgan asked, folding back the metal tabs and pulling open the already-popped seal.

“Doctor Who Uncensored?” Hotch joked, picking up a slice of pizza and taking a healthy bite.

“Rand McNally – the centerfold edition?” Morgan laughed.

“Oh, ha ha, very funny. Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Reid mused, reaching precariously for a sip of soda. He got the soda safely back to the table, but it was a challenge.

Morgan spilled the envelope onto Reid’s feet. What emerged was a well-thumbed issue of Playgirl Magazine. The 8 x 11 piece of white paper taped to the front exclaimed that it was the ‘Re-Edited FBI Edition’. The handwriting was obviously Garcia’s, as if the neon bunnies and hearts and flowers also drawn on the page didn’t already give that away.

“Go ahead. You know you wanna,” Reid murmured playfully.

Morgan and Hotch picked their jaws up off the floor, and gave each other a nervous look. Hotch set down his half-eaten pizza slice, and Morgan held his breath. Cringing back in trepidation, Hotch flipped open the magazine to a random page. He inhaled sharply.

“She must have scanned random shots from footage all over the building to get the right heads for the right body-types. It’s really hysterical,” Reid chuckled wickedly. Every page in the magazine had a cut-out of a different head which had been taped on the nude and semi-nude bodies. They quickly recognized many members of their own team, other agents in the office – even an unsub or two. Morgan was almost hyper-ventilating. Hotch looked like he might need to be resuscitated.

Derek whipped out his phone and dialed. Reid calmly refolded the map of Utah, and tried unsuccessfully to stop smiling. The minute Garcia picked up the phone….

“You’ve reached the Office of Penelope Garcia, Mistress of Graphic Reinterpretation. How can I help you?” Penelope purred.

“GARCIA!!” Morgan howled. “What the hell is this?!”

“Oh, you saw page 48? Pretty impressive, eh?” Garcia smirked.

“Penelope, we’re going to talk about this, later, privately,” Hotch grumbled.

“Boss Man, if this is about page 37…”

“What?” Hotch muttered, flipping pages. “OH MY GOD!” Aaron exclaimed upon finding himself depicted in a compromising position with Strauss. Reid nearly fell off his bed laughing. Morgan whipped the magazine closed and hurriedly stuffed it back in the manila envelope.

“We are so going to talk about this, Babygirl,” Morgan exclaimed.

“How’s my woobie?” Garcia asked solicitously. Reid took Morgan’s phone from him.

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” Spencer intoned before Morgan snatched his phone back.

“You’re welcome, precious. See all of you tomorrow. Be safe. Garcia out.”


	12. Chapter 12

Epilogue - Tuesday Evening

 

Whenever the team returned at night from another closed case, invariably they would separate on the plane into those who needed down time to relax and unwind, and those who wanted to talk or jabber or joke around. The flight back from Utah was no different. There was a rousing game of poker going on between Rossi, Hotch, Prentiss, and JJ at one end of the passenger compartment.

At the other end of the passenger compartment, Morgan and Reid were stretched out and mellowed out, lounging like two old tom cats in a shared sunbeam. The lights were low, and the seats were piled with comfortable blankets and pillows. Reid was under the influence of the strongest Tylenol available and still had a headache so strong that he could hardly open his eyes. Morgan had his music going, and a quiet jazzy melody was bleeding from his headphones into the air around him.

Derek opened his eyes when Reid touched him gently on the arm and motioned forward. Hotch and JJ were arguing. Hotch finally stood up, removed his jacket, and put it on the pile of clothes. Morgan slid off his headphones and murmured to Spencer.

“Strip poker?” he questioned.

“It would seem so," Reid replied.

“You should go join them,” Morgan urged. “You’d have them all butt-naked inside half an hour.”

“Yeah, but it’s a three-hour flight. Once they’re naked, what then?” Reid mused sleepily.

“Lap dances!” Morgan teased. “I bet Rossi could surprise you.”

“Not tonight. I have a headache,” Spencer winced.

“Then you auction their clothes back to them,” Derek suggested wickedly. 

Reid gave another sleepy laugh. “Morgan, can I ask a favor of you?” 

“What kind of favor?” Morgan wondered.

“I should have done this years ago,” Reid said, his humor slipping away as he fussed with the blanket that was wrapped around him.

“Done what?”

“You saw Hotch, what he did back there.” 

“When? Where?”

“It’s time I took a more proactive approach to my physical safety.”

“Reid, you’re rambling. Where is this heading? What’s the matter?”

“I’m worried that I’m a liability to the safety of my team.”

“You’re not,” Morgan soothed.

“I don’t want to wait and find out what’s going to happen the next time a suspect overwhelms me, and Hotch freezes because he doesn’t want me to get hurt.”

“It was only for a second or two,” Morgan defended. Reid shook his head no.

“It’s not just Hotch. I’ve seen you do it too – overcompensate for my inability, put yourself in jeopardy in order to protect me. All of you have. I'm compromising all of you.”

“You’re imagining things.”

“No. No, I’m not. It’s happened time and again. Suspects will get cornered, take a good look at the entire team, and decide I’m the easiest way out. You know what pisses me off? They’re right. I am the weakest link to this chain."

"Reid, don't be so hard on yourself."

"You know it’s true. Admit it. Whenever there’s even the slightest hint of danger, the rest of you have a tendency to circle around me and put me in the middle.”

“Not all the time. You’re a better shot. You’ve been practicing. We’ve noticed.”

“Morgan, I know it’s no coincidence that Hotch usually assigns me to do the victimology or the geographic profiling from the police station. I know it’s where I’m the most useful…”

“Exactly.”

“…but it’s also where I’m least likely to get myself shot, stabbed, rolled down a hill, bludgeoned, molested, kidnapped, assaulted.”

“What are you asking me to do?”

“I need your help with combat training,” Reid pleaded.

Morgan squinted and then shook his head. “This isn’t some kind of complex practical joke you’re trying to pull on me, is it, kid?”

“No. I promise. It’s not a joke.”

“I don’t think you have any idea what you’re asking me to do,” Morgan interjected, daring a smile.

“I’m not asking you to turn me into Rambo. I don't want to kick down doors. But I would be so grateful if you would teach me a few defense techniques.”

“Defense techniques?”

“You’re an experienced teacher. You know how to tailor the training to a student’s assets. I must have assets you can mold.”

“It’s not Mission Impossible, but it could be Mission Unlikely.”

“Morgan,” Reid frowned moodily.

“You’re taking this too hard,” Morgan murmured, glad for the distraction of another round of cheering from the front of the plane. Prentiss whistled as Hotch tossed his tie onto the pile. JJ added one shoe. Rossi put down a cuff-link and got roundly tormented by the others.

“I’m worried about the team getting hurt because of my physical deficiencies. Like I said, I don’t want to be afraid of what happens the next time an unsub shoves a weapon under my chin and Hotch freezes."

“All right, we can start with simple things, once you get your cast off.”

“’That’ll be three weeks.”

“Before then, we’ll begin by getting you ready to do this. You are in desperate need of muscle toning and conditioning. Some time on the treadmill wouldn’t kill you. Light weight-lifting. Reid, you are serious about this, aren’t you? You’re not going to change your mind when you come to your senses and realize the size of the mountain you’re attempting to climb?”

“I won’t change my mind,” Reid promised.

“I'm not going to go soft on you—won’t matter how much you beg."

"I don't want you to go easy on me.”

“You are serious about this,” Derek decided. 

“Dead serious,” Spencer nodded.

“You could get Hotch to train you. Why ask me?”

“For reasons that should be perfectly obvious,” Reid retorted, turning and caressing the ring on his finger.

Morgan quietly watched Hotch, who was undoing the cuffs on his dress shirt and unbuttoning his collar.

“We’ll start tomorrow morning. Bring some sweats with you. Something loose and comfortable,” Morgan ordered.

“Something that won't tear or rip as you throw me to the mat over and over again?”

“I wasn't going to say that, but yeah,” Morgan mused. "We're going to start with some light strength training first."

“First thing tomorrow,” Reid agreed. He slowly pulled off his blanket.

“Where you going?” Morgan asked.

“I better get over there and help Hotch before he’s down to his boxers,” Spencer whispered.

Morgan settled back into his seat and watched Reid amble stiffly up the aisle. Spencer bent down and whispered something to Hotch, who sat up straight and gasped.

“Oh! Um….I guess I fold,” Hotch said, clearly glad for the escape. He stood up and walked with Reid towards the galley and restroom area. It drew more than a couple stares when Hotch closed the privacy curtain.

Rossi called out, “Hey, none of that bullshit on the plane, guys.”

An unidentified middle finger poked out of the curtain and back again.

“Dave, Reid has a wrist in a cast, and he’s got a bad headache,” JJ murmured. “He probably has to pee and just needs help negotiating buckles and zippers.”

“TMI,” Rossi responded with a shudder.

Emily laughed loudly and laid out her cards. “Yes! Aces and fours. Give the lady her due!”

Rossi coughed up another cuff link, and JJ contributed an earring.


End file.
